


Turn Around; I'm Here

by warpfactornonsense (ZJ_Timekeeper)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Turnabout Intruder, brief mention of potential dysphoria?, idk there was body swapping and neither Kirk nor Spock enjoyed the experience, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZJ_Timekeeper/pseuds/warpfactornonsense
Summary: Kirk contemplates the events that took place in s3e24 "Turnabout Intruder."





	Turn Around; I'm Here

Jim took another swallow of whiskey, savoring the burn in his throat as it went down. It was cheap stuff, barely palatable, but that seemed appropriate, considering the day’s events.

With a twitch of his wrist, the caramel liquid swirled in the glass. More viscous than water, it adhered in a thin film to the edges where it had sloshed. It was just about the color of Janice’s hair…

With that, he set the glass down on his table. He really didn’t want to be reminded of Janice’s hair. He’d loved her, once - still cared enough to wish the best for her, in the way that he felt about all his exes and former lovers. He’d never wish ill upon any of them, for all that he might wish never again to cross paths with some of them. 

He couldn’t even hate Janice, not even after today. It wasn’t entirely her fault. Maybe. She  _ had  _ tried to murder him - had murdered several scientists on her team. But there was a small sliver of injustice: the system had failed her.

For all that Earth and Starfleet were in the 23rd century and were tolerant and progressive, there were still elements that were hard to shake, and everyday sexism, while greatly diminished from previous centuries, was still an unfortunate reality. During a Starfleet review for command consideration, would something like the clack of high heels on a tile floor be considered too frivolous or appearance-conscious to be worthy of military command, even if the interviewers didn’t consciously register it as objectionable? High heels were not forbidden in interviews conducted out of uniform, and in such settings, did not preclude an inability to command others. And captaincy and admiralty were much more predominantly male than anything else. Could it have been the system’s fault?

Then again, with how vitriolic she'd seemed, it was possible the system had nothing to do with it. It was conceivable that Janice's own streak of bitterness and readiness to point the blame elsewhere had been Starfleet's reasons for not allowing her further promotion.

None of it justified murder, though, or turning Kirk’s own officers against him - even if it wasn’t really  _ him _ at the time. Something like that could, even subconsciously, destroy trust among his staff, or at least require time to process, and therefore, bring down team efficiency.

Clearly, he hadn’t had enough whiskey, if he was still ruminating over the debacle in such depth. Jim picked up his glass and downed the rest of the contents in one burning gulp. He hissed, inhaling deeply, and set the glass back down. Time for another.

If only Spock were there with him. He’d know exactly what to say to make Jim feel better about Janice’s hideous revenge plot, of the events that led her to consider murder, and of how awful Jim felt about having been so viewed by his officers.

Oh, they’d come around eventually. No one had as much as hinted at having their trust in Captain Kirk shaken, nor their friendship with Jim. But Jim knew the importance of appearances. It took time to get over things like that. It had taken him a couple weeks to resume nightly chess games with Spock after the court martial incident over Talos IV, and Spock had had only the best of intentions  _ and _ had concocted a way to keep Jim free from blame with Starfleet Command. 

Jim couldn’t in good conscience ask Spock to console him. He’d let Spock take his time, let him approach Jim off-duty whenever he felt he should. Though his bed would feel rather lonely in the meantime. 

His door chimed, and Jim threw back the remainder of his third whiskey before calling, “Yes?” 

The door slid open. Spock stood there at ease, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes flicked down to the empty glass and the half-empty bottle, and his posture became just a little stiffer. “Is everything all right? Captain?” The title sounded tacked on, as though unsure if he should be approaching Jim as first officer or as his partner. 

Jim sighed. Of course. “As well as it can be after a day like today, Mr. Spock. Come in.”

Spock stepped in just enough for the doors to close behind him, resuming his stance. “I came to see if there was anything further I can do.”

He shook his head. “No, I think we’ve done all we can for now. If command wants any further explanations, they’ll get them tomorrow.” He glanced over at the bottle, considering another glass, then decided against it. He stood, feeling just faintly unsteady, but it was momentary, nothing he couldn’t handle. The glass and bottle clinked against each other as Jim picked them up and removed them to the cabinet behind his desk - cleaning the tumbler was a problem for another day.

“I see. Is there anything else I can do, Jim? Perhaps sending the glass to be cleaned?”

Jim stood up from the low cabinet and faced Spock, whose face betrayed nothing whatsoever. He inhaled deeply before responding, “No… no, I think we can leave it. Maybe it’ll… keep me from drinking anything the next time I have a bad day.” 

“I was not aware that you had a problem with alcohol consumption. Is there another way I can be of assistance? Holding you accountable, perhaps?”

Jim snorted, then smiled faintly. “No, I don’t believe I have a drinking problem, Mr. Spock, but you’re welcome to… monitor my intake if you feel it necessary.” He gesticulated vaguely at Spock before turning away.

It was sweet to volunteer aid in that area, but Spock had been practically living in Kirk's quarters for four months, now, during the course of their relationship. Any longstanding issue would have already come to light. What Spock was truly getting at was the potential need to monitor Jim over the next few days, though in a professional or personal capacity, it wasn't entirely clear. His gut told him the concern was personal. But what if Spock wanted distance and thought that a problem was a convenient excuse?

No, that wasn't like Spock. Not that Jim blamed him for wanting distance. Something was up, though. So he gave him an easy out.

“If that’s all you came for… good night, Mr. Spock.” Jim made his way to his dresser to begin his nightly routine.

“Jim.”

Jim sighed and yanked his pajama pants from the dresser drawer and stared resolutely at the mirror above it, avoiding looking anywhere near Spock. “You don’t have to stay, Spock.”

“And if I wish to stay?” Spock took a small step forward. “I would not care to impose if you require solitude.”

Jim’s hands curled into the pajamas, burying his fingers in the soft material. His eyes closed tightly as he felt two warm arms wrap around him from behind. Gratefully, he leaned back into Spock’s embrace, still tense with uncertainty. “I’d like it,” he rasped finally, “if you wanted to stay.”

“Then I shall.” 

Jim exhaled heavily and let himself relax in Spock’s arms. For several long moments, they stood there, wordlessly taking comfort in the other’s presence. 

“The events of today were most trying,” Spock finally admitted, “and I would… that is, it would bring me emotional security… to be near you.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d want that after how… how ‘I’ acted today. Or Janice. You know.” 

Spock tightened the embrace and lowered his head closer to Jim’s ear. Jim’s gaze went upward toward the mirror, where he could see the both of them, and he stared into Spock’s brown eyes, soft in this moment of openness. “I will not deny that it was disturbing to watch Dr. Lester hold your body and position hostage.” It spoke volumes that Spock didn’t even hesitate before using the word “disturbing” to describe his emotional state. “But you have been returned to your rightful form, and I intend to cherish it and… provide reassurance.”

Jim turned in Spock’s arms and returned the embrace, slumping against his faithful first officer. “Thank you. I… was scared. That you might not discover who I really was.” He chuckled, though it lacked any real mirth. “God… I had to act for Chris Chapel. Put on a show for her. Asked her if I could see… that  _ nice _ Mr. Spock. I knew if anyone had a hope of figuring it out, it’d be you.”

“Indeed. I know the mind of my t’hy’la.” Spock’s fingers began to trace meaningless patterns through Jim’s hair, thoroughly destroying any styling. Jim melted into the touch. “Even before the meld, Dr. Lester’s behavior was markedly removed from yours.”

Jim nuzzled into Spock’s neck, humming as Spock’s fingers carded through his hair. “I don’t know that I ever felt so alone as when I was trying to convince you to meld with me. I’ve grown so used to relying on you for support, that…” He trailed off. “I love you, Spock. I don’t say that enough.”

“One does not tire of hearing such declarations. Taluhk nash-veh k'dular.”

They stood there in silence for a few more moments, wrapped in each other’s arms. Spock spoke up, voice low and flat. “I am grateful that I do not have to spend my life with you in the body of Dr. Lester. I am not sure I could learn to… appreciate that physical form the same way I do yours.”

Jim chuckled, mood finally lightening. “Sure, you wouldn’t be attracted to that, but try  _ living _ in it. I like my own body, thanks.” He stepped back, one hand trailing down Spock’s arm to end in a brief oz’hesta. “You always know what to say, Spock. I’m glad we don’t have to go through that, either.

“Well. I think we both need to get a good night’s sleep. Or at least, I do.” He held up his pajama pants as if in demonstration of his intentions, and moved toward his - their - sleeping alcove. “Perhaps after… appreciating each other’s physical forms, as you put it?”

Spock followed him behind the privacy screen in time to watch Jim remove his uniform shirt. “An excellent idea, ashayam.”

**Author's Note:**

> I watched "Turnabout Intruder" for the first time the other day, and aside from live-tweeting the experience, my first reaction was wanting to write this. Please let me know if I haven't tagged things appropriately! 
> 
> This is my second Star Trek fic, self-beta'd - hope I did okay! I'd appreciate any feedback you're willing to give. Thanks for reading!


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